


Sands of Time

by vieralynn (sarasa_cat)



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarasa_cat/pseuds/vieralynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, Maric's son will do. In fact, Flemeth is certain he'll do quite fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sands of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dragon Age Kiss Battle on Dreamwidth.

Flemeth watched the young warrior pace the edge of the swamp, worrying himself sick about the other warden—that pretty elf girl who was still asleep.

“Save your energy. She’ll survive,” Flemeth said.

“How do you know? And what if she doesn’t? I saw her take four arrows straight to her chest. Then an ogre hit her with a giant spear. By the Maker,” the young warrior sobbed, “it was horrible.”

“I’ve seen far greater horrors in my life, and far greater miracles. Save your breath.”

“But how do I know that you and Morrigan aren’t doing things— nasty, evil, witchy things to her? Why won’t you let me see her?”

“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that patience is a virtue?” Flemeth suppressed a smile. This young man reminded her of his father. How fitting she rescue Maric’s son at the moment Loghain betrayed Maric’s line. A promise made. A promise kept.

Maric’s son squared his shoulders as he planted his feet. He drew himself up to his full height and held his chin high. “I insist you let me see her. She is the last Grey Warden in Ferelden beside myself. And that— that means I am her commander. I must know of her status.” As an afterthought, the young man pointed his finger at Flemeth, making a last minute attempt to punctuate his demand.

The sight of this young warrior made Flemeth throw back her head and laugh. “Do you plan on filling your father’s shoes?”

“What?!”

“Oh, you think I do not know who you are?”

The young warrior’s eyes grew wide as his jaw slacked in surprise.

“Yes, yes,” Flemeth said. “The very last of the Great King Calenhad’s bloodline, hidden away from royal life and raised in a monastery. But now he stands before me as a Grey Warden. I know how you were made. I know what powers run through your blood.”

Maric’s son narrowed his eyes.

“And you have every right to be suspicious of me!” Flemeth laughed.

She sauntered toward him, watching how his muscles froze. Was he ready to spring into action or would he run off like a coward and let history slip through his fingers with the sands of time?

Flemeth stood toe to toe with the young warrior as she looked him in the eye. “You are a smart boy,” she said. She put her hand on his shoulder. He did not flinch. “Yes, a very smart boy. Will you hurt the one you love most to save what you love?”

Maric’s son frowned at her. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t!” Flemeth dug her fingers into his shoulder as she laughed. “No, but you will.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. In that instant, she remembered how it had felt to be a young, beautiful woman. He gasped but he did not pull away. She lingered on his bottom lip, firmly kissing it. She stepped back.

His eyes were as round as saucers. He said nothing.

“Oh, yes. Yes. You’ll do.”


End file.
